


To Be Whole Again

by xfsista



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Jewelry, Magical Artifacts, Malfoy Manor, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Trapped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-14 23:41:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16050980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xfsista/pseuds/xfsista
Summary: After the war, Hermione is tasked by the Ministry to catalogue the contents of Malfoy Manor. She comes across one item that won’t let her leave.





	To Be Whole Again

It had been sixteen months since the fall of the Dark Lord, and the months since had been filled with trials and judgmental glares cast upon his family. The war was over, and he and his family had come out on the wrong side.

All things considered, they got off fairly light, thanks largely in part to his mother’s great ability to tell a lie in her desperation to get to her son. The fact that she also happened to help Harry Potter was purely coincidental and sheer dumb luck. 

So, while the fathers of his childhood friends were marched off to Azkaban, he and his parents got to serve house arrest in their posh manor house on a huge country estate where they were allowed to use limited magic. He imagined everyone must think they’d somehow bribed their way into an easy sentence. 

What they didn’t know was that being confined to his childhood home had become a greater terror than any prison could have ever been. Sometimes, out of the corner of his eye, he would have visions of Nagini; the phantom sound of her scales as she slithered across the dark wood floorboards still set his teeth on edge. Other times, he’d see Fenrir Greyback lurking in darkened corners, leering at him as he licked the blood of some poor soul he had murdered from his fingers.

For months, a madman had lived in his home, and the nightmares were still there in every room. The blood may have been scrubbed away, but the memories were still strong enough to make him break out in a cold sweat. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever feel completely comfortable here again.

The Ministry regularly searched their home for dark magical items, and it was no surprise when they were informed that they were sending someone to go through and catalogue the entire contents of the house. Being an old and wealthy family, this would be a lengthy task and would take several months, possibly even a year.

All of this was to be expected. 

What caught him unawares was who they sent to perform this task.

The first time Granger had walked through his door in an official capacity, it had only been a few months into his house arrest. The delicate skin beneath her eyes was darkened from lack of sleep, and her frame was a little too thin. He knew the condition of his body mirrored hers; an affliction of people who had experienced too many horrors. Light or dark, the side didn’t matter; they were children of war, and nightmares didn’t discriminate.

Several times a week, Granger would come by and spend hours going through the house’s contents. Ministry policy dictated that a family member had to be present while cataloguing took place to prevent accusations of theft.

Most of the time that task fell to Draco. For months, he essentially sat and watched Granger go through the family heirlooms. They said very little to one another. He wanted to be angry with her for being in his home and going through his things, but he didn’t have the energy to fight any more. 

So, he watched. Not the antiques. Those were just things, and he had seen them all before. No, he watched her. All those years sitting beside her in classes, he had never really looked at her before.

Every day, he’d notice something about her he hadn’t really noticed before: the delicate curve of her jaw, the length of her eyelashes, the litheness of her fingers and her tiny handwriting, the slope of her neck, the straightness of her nose in profile. 

Today, Granger was scheduled to go through his mother’s jewellery, so they found themselves sitting in Narcissa Malfoy’s massive dressing room that was situated between her equally large walk-in closet and the bedroom she shared with his father.

Draco draped himself on a chaise lounge with his hands behind his head and crossed his ankles. His mother’s jewellery wasn’t kept in a small trinket box, but a full-sized chest of drawers with very slender drawers meant to hold necklaces, bracelets, and other such baubles.

With a couple flicks and swishes of his wand, Draco released the security charms and watched as Granger slid the top drawer out and made her way to the coffee table that sat in the middle of the room and set the drawer on top of it. He expected her to pull one of the plush armchairs from a corner, but instead, she pulled out her quill and parchment and plopped herself down on the expensive Oriental rug.

Granger was a strange bird.

All afternoon, he watched her work as she picked up each piece of jewellery, occasionally lingering a second longer on something he suspected she liked. The evening sun filtered in through the gauzy drapes back lighting her and drawing attention to golden tones in her hair.

It was still frizzy, although maybe not the overwhelming bush that it once had been. No matter how she tried to pull it back, it always escaped, and she ended up pushing rogue pieces behind her ears.

“Malfoy, you’re staring,” she said flatly without looking up from her parchment.

“I’m supposed to watch you.”

Raising a brow, she looked at him. “Watch. Not stare.”

“Same difference.” He shrugged.

She sighed exaggeratedly and held up a bracelet that looked like a snake with emeralds for eyes. He knew she thought he was just trying to annoy her. Admittedly, he did enjoy getting under her skin, but where did she expect him to look? 

“I knew your mother had a lot of jewellery, but not this much. I’m going to have to continue this tomorrow.”

Suddenly, Draco felt anxious. He’d never admit to it in a million years, but this was the worst part of his day. In a strange way, he had come to look forward to Granger’s, er… visits. For those hours when she was here, he had something else to concentrate on. With her, he didn’t think about Nagini or Greyback or the Dark Lord. In her, he found an odd sort of solace. A comfort.

Secretly, he didn’t want her to leave.

But in reality, he sat up and said, “I’ll walk you--”

He was cut off by a sharp gasp.

“Did you see that?!”

“What?!”

“The bracelet! The snake bracelet! It just slithered around my wrist!” She was tugging on it frantically, her eyes wide with panic. “It won’t come off!”

“Let me see,” he said, taking her arm. He could feel her pulse fluttering wildly beneath his fingertips. The silver serpent that encircled her wrist didn’t have a latch, but appeared to be swallowing its own tail with tiny fangs holding it in place. Draco attempted to pull it apart, but it wouldn’t budge.

Confused, he met Granger’s eyes and was taken aback to find her looking at him angrily.

“You did this on purpose,” she said in a dangerously low voice as she jerked her wrist out of his limp grasp.

“Are you insane?!”

“You somehow charmed that bracelet and are trying to make it look like I stole it!“

Draco raised his brow at the absurdity of her accusation. “What would I gain from doing that?”

“I don’t know,” she said, sticking her finger in his face, “but I’m on to you, and you won’t get away with it.”

Incensed, he gritted his teeth and said, “I think it’s time you leave, Granger.”

“Fine!” she shouted.

“Fine!” he yelled back.

With her nose in the air, she practically marched out of the room towards the Floo in the study, leaving Draco to seethe. 

He couldn’t believe it. The bint was going to get him into trouble over something he had no control over. He had always thought that Granger was supposed to be the smart one, the one who thought things through fairly. Apparently, she was just as ready to make accusations first as her moronic friends. 

How was he supposed to know anything about his mother’s jewellery? Speaking of which, that bracelet was awfully strange. He’d have to ask his mother about it and figure out how to get it off Granger.

“Malfoy!” 

The harpy was back and stomping toward him with a murderous gleam in her eyes and covered head to toe in soot.

“What are you still doing here? And why do you look like a chimney sweep?”

“Apparently, I can’t leave!”

“What?”

Holding up her hand, she ticked off each incident on her fingers. “Well, first, the Floo spat me out. I tried twice, but both times, ended up rolling right back onto your travel room floor.

“So, I went outside and I tried to Apparate -- several times, actually -- but I kept landing right back in the same spot. Finally, I tried to walk off the property the Muggle way, only to run into an invisible barrier.” Her voice was getting higher and slightly manic. “So, for some reason or another, it seems I cannot leave!”

As he tried to process what she said, he was interrupted by his mother’s reprimanding from the hallway.

“Miss Granger! I know you and Draco don’t always get along, but must you raise your voice in our home? And… What in the world happened to you?! Why are you covered in ashes? Please tell me you didn’t get it all over the floors.”

Granger had the decency to look properly scolded. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Malfoy. You see, I…”

The light glinted off the bracelet catching Narcissa’s eye. Sharply, she looked to her son. “Draco, what did you do?”

***

The sun dipped below the horizon, and the candles and oil lamps all magically lit themselves throughout the manor. Draco sat on a sofa in the parlour with his elbows on his knees and glared at the closed door. After his mother discovered Granger wearing the bracelet, she quickly ushered the girl downstairs to her sitting room and locked him out.

He was really getting tired of being left out of things, especially when he kept getting blamed for them.

The sound of slow, steady steps echoed on the wooden floorboards in the hallway behind him. His father mostly kept to himself these days, often choosing to spend his time alone either in the stables with his prized horses or strolling in the gardens. Lucius had come back from Azkaban not fully whole, and the time with the Dark Lord and the war had broken him further. The only thing that remained of the man Draco remembered from his childhood was his almost regal gait.

“Draco? Where is your mother? It’s nearly time for dinner.”

He looked at his father taking in the circles under his eyes, and for the first time, he wondered if Lucius spent so much time outdoors in an attempt to escape his own nightmares.

“She’s in the sitting room with Granger,” he answered.

Lucius jerked his head back slightly and sneered in barely hidden contempt. He didn‘t like Granger, and the feeling was mutual; they tended to avoid each other at all costs on her visits to the manor. “What is she still doing here?”

Before Draco could respond, the door opened and his mother exited followed by Granger who appeared to be blushing under her still dirty face. 

Narcissa cleared her throat delicately. “Miss Granger will be staying with us for a while until we can get things, er… sorted. She‘s already contacted the Ministry to alert them of the situation.”

“Situation?” Lucius asked. “What situation? Cissy, what‘s going on?”

With a sigh, she gave her husband a serious look, then reached down and lifted Hermione’s wrist until the bracelet slid from under her sleeve. His father’s eyes went wide, and he stepped forward and took her hand to get a closer look at the jewellery. Hermione recoiled slightly at Lucius’ touch, but she held still.

Slightly stunned, Lucius looked at his wife. Raising his brow, he turned to Draco with a look of questioning mixed with something akin to accusation. 

Draco was getting sick of that look. 

“What the hell?! Why does everyone keep blaming me?”

Lucius dropped Hermione’s hand without ceremony, and the cool mask was back in place. “We’ll discuss this later. It’s time for dinner, and I do believe Miss Granger needs to freshen up.”

With that, he turned on his heel in an almost soldierly fashion and left the room. Draco whipped his head toward Narcissa.

“Mother? What’s going on?” he asked, starting to feel slightly panicked. 

“Your father’s right, dear; it’s almost dinnertime. We can discuss this later. I’m going to show Miss Granger to her room.”

Narcissa ushered Hermione out of the room, but not before he briefly caught her brown eyes causing her to blush to renew itself. Quickly, she averted her gaze, and they left the room leaving him alone to wonder at her strange behaviour. She had been completely silent throughout the entire exchange, which was completely out of character for her. How odd!

Draco was confused by her and angry that his parents had treated him like a child. He was somehow clearly involved, yet they wouldn’t tell him how. 

Granger knew. He was sure of it. If his parents wouldn’t tell him, he’d have to get it out of her somehow. 

Maybe after dinner.

***

_He runs down a long, dark corridor. Something is coming for him. He can’t see it, but he can feel it breathing down the back of his neck. Along the walls are faceless bodies; they stick their hands and feet out, pulling at him and trying to trip him and slow him down._

_At the end of the hallway, he sees a door. It opens suddenly, and standing in a halo of warm light is Hermione Granger. She can help him! If he can just get to her, he’ll be all right!_

_Suddenly, he trips and the floor is gone and he’s falling, falling, falling…_

With a gasp, Draco woke up.

“Fuck,” he whispered out loud. He wiped the perspiration from his forehead and squinted at the clock on his night table. 

It was 1:15 in the morning. 

Draco was no stranger to nightmares, and it wasn’t even the first time Granger had made an appearance. However, she usually starred in his brain’s ridiculous desire to repeat the horrific memory of his insane aunt’s torture of her. Tonight’s nightmare was completely new. 

This had to be related to the bracelet debacle. Of course, he never got the opportunity to talk to her, because the once-brave Gryffindor had turned into a coward and ate dinner in her room last night. 

He also got the sinking suspicion that his parents were trying to keep him from talking to her.

With his wand, he filled the glass he kept by his bed with water and took a swig before deciding to get up. He wasn’t going back to sleep anyway.

The cool night air of the manor was a welcome relief on his sweat-dampened body. He did this a lot -- roamed the halls of the manor at night with his wand tight in hand. It was partially a way to wear his body and mind down so he could sleep, but it was also a reminder that he was safe and no one lurked in the corners any more. 

His heart nearly stopped when he came outside the drawing room and saw a ghostly figure crouched in front of the doors. Instinctively, he raised his wand.

Then, his eyes focused and his mind began to catch up and he realized that this wasn’t a spirit. It was Granger, sitting there in his mother’s borrowed silver silk nightgown, clutching her left arm, her face pale and a haunted look in her eyes. The bluish moonlight streaming in through the windows cast an unearthly glow upon her.

Draco approached her carefully as if she were a spooked animal, then slowly lowered himself next to her, never taking his eyes off her.

“I thought I could go in,” she said. Her voice was quiet as if speaking too loud would bring the memories back to life. “I thought I could face it.” She turned her watery eyes on him. “This is as far as I got.”

He swallowed. “I don’t like this room either,” he admitted. That was an understatement. He hated this room. Sometimes he felt like her screams were still embedded in the panelling of the walls, ready to burst forth at any moment.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her fingers spasm around her arm. At first, he thought she was clutching at the bracelet, but her grip was higher up on her forearm. He wasn’t sure what compelled him to reach over and place his hand on top of hers and pry it away from her arm. The jagged letters were now a pale pink, but the word was still as clear as the day it was carved into her skin.

_MUDBLOOD._

“It’s hideous,” she said as his fingers skimmed over the puckered scars.

Pulling back, he rolled up the left sleeve of his pyjama top revealing the Dark Mark that still marred his skin. “Not as hideous as mine.” He smiled without humour. “And mine was by choice.”

Hermione furrowed her brow and looked him in the eye. “Was it really, Draco? How much of a choice did you really have?”

Draco’s chest ached. He didn’t want to talk about these things any more.

“Tell me about the bracelet, Granger.”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“Just… tell me. I’m getting tired of being left out, and I know you know something.”

Her hand went back to the scars on her forearm and rubbed over them a few times. “Your mother just said that it’s a Black family heirloom.” She shrugged one shoulder non-committally. 

“Oh, come on, Granger! There’s more to it than that. Why can’t you leave? And why were you blushing like a virgin on her wedding night earlier?”

At that, her face flushed again. Only this time, Draco could see that she reddened all the way down to the front of her chest. 

Hermione huffed with exasperation. “Your mother is under the illusion that you’ve formed some kind of… attachment to me or something. The bracelet has some kind of charm on it.”

Now Draco felt his face go warm.

“No, I haven’t,” he denied. He wasn’t attached to her. Well, he had grown sort of used to having her around, but that’s not like being attracted to her or anything.

“I didn’t think so,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“What do you think, then?”

“Maybe if we both go in this room together, we’ll be able to face it.”

“Now who’s changing the subject?”

Hermione stood up and held her hand out to him. Standing before him in that silvery gown, with the blue moonlight creating a halo around her frizzy hair, she looked ethereal, like a fucking angel. It gave him a strange sense of calm and, in that moment, he would have followed her anywhere.

Taking her hand, he stood beside her and, together, they walked into the drawing room.

A slight feeling of nausea went through him, and he breathed slowly through his nose and out his mouth again. His hand was slick with sweat, but he didn’t know if it was from him or Granger. A tremor went through her body, and he saw her staring at the spot on the floor where Bellatrix had hovered over her, repeatedly cursing her, less than a year and a half ago.

Draco swallowed down the lump that had formed in his throat and looked at Hermione, who had begun to tremble all over.

“Granger?”

Her breathing was sharp and shallow, and she was making a strange whimpering noise. She was having a panic attack, and he wasn’t sure what he should do! All he knew was he had to get her to stop. 

Draco pulled her over to a nearby sofa and forced her to sit, then knelt down in front of her and held her face in his hands.

“Look at me, Granger! Breathe!” Holding her gaze, he inhaled and exhaled until she was following his lead. “That’s right. Just like that,” he encouraged softly. 

As she began to calm, and the seriousness of the situation abated, he became more aware of their close proximity. Every time she exhaled, the warm puff of air would tickle his upper lip. His hands were still framing her face, and he allowed one of his thumbs to skim across the smooth skin of her cheekbone. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and he flicked his eyes to the fullness of her mouth.

Hermione raised one of her hands toward his chest, and he fully expected her to push him back. Instead, her fingers curled around the material of his pyjama top and pulled him forward until he fell into her, lips first.

Their teeth clinked together uncomfortably at the force of their collision. Draco pulled back to readjust before returning to her lips at a more delicate pace. He allowed one hand to slip from her face and sink into the crazy hair he had always wanted to touch but would never admit to, so he could cradle her head. 

Draco hesitantly slipped his tongue along her bottom lip and was encouraged to be greeted by the warm wetness of her own tongue. Pulling back, he opened his eyes and found her staring back at him, and in that moment, they silently acknowledged that they were going to cross a line that there would be no returning from.

Eyes drifted shut, and their mouths met once more, this time much more frenzied than before. Hermione wound her arms around his neck, and with the warm weight of her pressed against him, he felt as if nothing could touch him. There were no dark corners, or Greyback lurking, or evil Dark Lords.

There was only her.

They tumbled onto the plush carpeting, pulling apart only long enough to relieve each other of each piece of clothing. Her palms felt hot as they trailed up his chest and curled around his neck to pull him back for another kiss, and then another. Every part of her was soft and perfect. When he told her that, she flushed and giggled so adorably that he wanted to take a bite out of her. So, he did. He nipped her right on her left buttock, causing her to squeal like a banshee.

“Shh! Do you want to wake my parents?!” he scolded through his own laughter. He was only half serious. They couldn’t hear them in this part of the house anyway.

“You bit me!” She tried to look indignant, but it was difficult to do when one was starkers. 

“I can’t help it if you’re delicious. As a matter of fact,” Draco said with a devilish grin, “I think I need another taste.” Reaching out, he snatched her ankles and pulled her toward him, kissing and licking his way down the inside of her thighs until he reached her core.

“Oh, Draco,” she groaned as his tongue pressed into her folds. 

He wrapped his arms around her thighs and pressed his hands into the soft flesh of her belly to hold her in place as he feasted on her. Keeping her on edge, he kissed, licked, and teased until she was begging him to end the torture. Wrapping his lips around her clit, sucked hard, rapidly flicking his tongue. 

He looked up at her from under his lashes and watched her face go red and her mouth slacken in pleasure. The muscles of her stomach twitched beneath his hands. Thighs squeezed around his head as she came undone with a shout.

Draco crawled up next to her and pulled her limp body into his arms, nuzzling her sweat-dampened hairline until she recovered her senses. Hermione gazed up at him with a look he had never received from anyone before; he wasn’t sure what it meant, but it made him feel warm all over. She brushed the fringe back from his forehead and kissed him softly.

Reaching between them, she gripped his erection in her hand and stroked him. He bit his lip at the excruciating delight and hissed between his teeth.

“I want you,” she whispered.

Prying her hand from him, he rolled on his back and drawled, “Well, c’mere, then.”

“What?” she asked in confusion.

“I want you on top. I want to be able to see you.”

Eyes slightly downcast, she straddled him and took his cock in hand once more, sliding the flared head between the slick lips of her cunt. Merlin help him, he hoped he wouldn’t come before he even got inside of her. Then, slowly, she placed him at her entrance and began to slide down and take him in, the hot, wet walls of her pussy gripping him snugly.

Once she was adjusted to his length, she lifted herself and dropped down slowly, and then once more until she created a rhythm. Draco placed his hands on her hips to steady her and offered a little help by thrusting upward to meet her halfway. He reached up and palmed her breasts, loving that they were just the right size to fit in his hands.

Hermione’s movements were becoming more desperate.

“Draco,” she whined. “Draco, I can’t… Not from this position… I can’t…”

Understanding her meaning, he quickly flipped them over without withdrawing from her and threw her legs over his shoulders nearly bending her in half. Gone was the slow, easy grace of earlier. In its place was only raw passion. Draco thrust his hips frenetically as she clawed her nails down his back. Merlin, he thought with a jolt of panic, he hoped he was hitting the right spot, because it was close to being over for him.

When she began to cry out and he felt her muscles undulate around him, he wanted to jump for joy, but there was no time for that as he was interrupted by the familiar tightness in his bollocks letting him know that his own orgasm had arrived. With a groan, he jerked his hips and spilled his seed inside of her.

It was nearly four in the morning when they left the drawing room. Draco took Hermione to his bedroom and made love to her a second time. At half past six, they finally fell into an exhausted sleep. 

Draco couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept like that without the aid of a potion -- deep and dreamless. When he awoke, he felt well-rested for the first time in ages. He’d almost forgotten what that felt like. 

He also felt something that might be happiness, but he wasn’t quite sure.

Rolling over, that feeling was quickly squashed when he noticed he was alone in his bed, and the emerald eyes of a silver snake bracelet stared at him from his nightstand.

***

Even if she regretted what had happened between them, Draco expected that she would at least show up for work. She was a Gryffindor, after all. She had faced Death Eaters and Dark Lords; a one-night stand shouldn’t be a big deal.

But she didn’t show up. Instead, the Ministry had sent some gangly looking bloke with thick glasses and more freckles than all the Weasleys put together to take over. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying watching him as it had been watching Granger.

One afternoon, he was sitting on the veranda reading a book when his mother interrupted him. She had a look on her face like she had just taken a bite out of a lemon.

“You have guest,” she said flatly.

Draco looked at her like she was pulling his leg.

“She’s in the drawing room,” she said, then walked away as if she was put out by even having to deliver the message.

Heart pounding, he went to the room that was now the hub of all his extreme, Granger-related memories. When he stepped inside, the woman in question was standing there. He was torn between feeling elated and pissed off.

He went with the latter.

She smiled tentatively. “Hello, Draco.”

“Where the hell have you been?”

Her smile fell. “Researching.”

“Researching? You leave my bed, without a word or a note, to do research?”

“I needed time to think.”

“Think about what? What a mistake it was to fuck a Death Eater?” he growled, his lip curled in disgust.

Hermione recoiled and hurt flashed in her eyes.

“Maybe I should leave,” she choked out as she started for the door.

A dull ache settled in Draco’s chest, and he knew he couldn’t let her leave. Because if she walked out that door, there was a very good chance he’d never see her again. It was suddenly very clear to him that he didn’t want that. 

“Granger,” he said as he gently caught her by the arm and stopped her from exiting. She met his gaze with glossy brown eyes and a glimmer of hope. Apologizing wasn’t something he had ever done, and he wasn’t exactly certain how to do it now. So, he did the next best thing he could think of and turned the conversation back to what she wanted to discuss.

“What were you researching?”

“The bracelet.”

The bracelet. Amidst his own emotional drama, he had nearly forgotten about the piece of jewellery that had stranded her there and tethered her to him in the first place.

“How did you get it off?” he asked.

“It came off on its own when we were…” She raised her eyebrows primly to fill in the blank.

“Making the beast with two backs?” he suggested, causing her to flush.

Hermione cleared her throat. “That’s one way of putting it.”

Crossing his arms, Draco said, “Well, you said my mother said that it had latched onto you because I was attracted to you. Maybe acting on that attraction released it.”

She smiled up at him. “You’re admitting out loud that you’re attracted to me?”

“What is it with witches? Always needing words.” He brushed a bit of her hair behind her ear and lowered his voice. “I thought I made it quite apparent the other night.”

“Yes, well, it’s still nice to hear the words.”

“Granger, I find you very, very attractive,” he said as he leaned in to kiss her.

He had barely skimmed her lips when she said, “About the bracelet…”

Draco groaned and dropped his forehead to her collarbone. “Yes?”

“Did you ever notice that the bracelet is an Ouroboros?”

He lifted his head and raised his brow. “A what?”

“An Ouroboros. A serpent swallowing its own tail.”

“Is this the part where you’re going to get all swotty and tell me in great detail what that means?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed. “If you’re going to make fun, maybe I shouldn’t tell you anything.”

Draco just stared at her knowing she was dying to tell him. He only made her suffer briefly before finally asking, “Okay, what does it mean?”

“Well, there was a famous Egyptian alchemist called Cleopatra, not to be confused with the queen of the same name. She wrote a famous text called the The Chrysopoeia of Cleopatra in which the Ouroboros first appeared.”

He nodded for her to continue.

“Now, the Ouroboros is often seen as a representation of something cyclical. Like a phoenix. But in the alchemy text, the serpent is half black and half white and is compared to the Taoist Yin-Yang. Two halves of a whole.”

Draco wasn’t sure how to take that. This sounded much deeper than just plain old attraction and the occasional shag. “What does that mean?” he asked again.

“How have you been sleeping?”

Taken aback, he furrowed his brow. “Surprisingly well, now that you mention it.”

“So, have I. For the first time since I can remember. I even managed to walk into this room without breaking into a cold sweat. Why do you think that is?”

“Well, I know I like this room better because we made a better memory in here.” He grinned lasciviously. 

“Draco,” she said with a laugh.

“You think it’s this Ouroboros?”

Hermione became serious again. “We’ve been fractured for so long, Draco. I don’t know if this is like being reborn or just knowing what it’s like to be whole again. I just know that before, I felt so empty inside. And now,“ she said pausing slightly, “now, I don’t.”

Draco smoothed her hair back from her cheeks and framed her face in his hands. “You know what I think? I think that you give that damn bracelet too much credit. It might have hurried things along, but I wanted you before it ever attached itself to you. And it isn’t some silly piece of jewellery that soothes my demons. That’s all you, you little imp. Now, I’m going to kiss you before you start talking again.”

He kissed her fiercely, and she didn’t argue. 

The Yin and the Yang, the dark and the light, the Pureblood and the Muggleborn.

Draco and Hermione.

Two broken halves that found together they could be whole.

**Fin**

**Author's Note:**

> Locating more older stories. This was written for the fourth round of Dramione Duet in 2012. 
> 
> My original author's notes:  
> I got three really great prompts from my Duet partner, and had I been able to, I would have loved to work all three into one story, but they seemed like plot heavy ideas and there’s only so much one can do in 8,000 words or less. So, I chose the first prompt which was “a magical item with a curious power.” I most sincerely hope that this meets my partner’s expectations. 
> 
> I personally love snake jewellery, and I have several snake bracelets myself. Naturally, I thought that would be something Narcissa would have, and thinking of the shape of a bracelet made me think of an ouroboros. Some Googling led me to the information about the alchemist named Cleopatra (all of that is true). I bent it for my own purposes.
> 
> Ouroboros (general info in various myths): http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ouroborus  
> Cleopatra the Alchemist: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cleopatra_the_Alchemist  
> Ouroboros (as it appears in The Chrysopoeia of Cleopatra): http://altreligion.about.com/od/westernocculttradition/ig/Ouroboros/Greco-Egyptian-Ouroboros-Image.htm


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